


Bound

by GravityGarbage



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Fingering, Here there be incest please be warned y'all, Light Bondage, M/M, Only enthusiastic consent, PWP, Please note the mind control ties make an appearance but are NOT used! No dubcon here, Stancest - Freeform, grunkle fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 06:02:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18204491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GravityGarbage/pseuds/GravityGarbage
Summary: Seriously, only Stanford Pines could possess both the genius it took to come up with something as ludicrous as 'mind controlling ties' as well as the sheer cluelessness necessary to hand that kind of power over to two preteens without batting an eye. Stanley isn't surprised though; he's been dealing with this sort of thing from his twin since birth.But just because he's not surprised doesn't mean he's not still annoyed. Rather than yelling though, he decides maybe it's time to express his irritation with his estranged brother in an altogether more 'constructive' manner.





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I've decided to archive my old grunkle sin works here on the off chance Tumblr decides to eat them during the Great Purge. (: Have fun and let me know if you think I need to add additional tags.

“So. Mind-controlling ties, huh?”

Ford looked up and glanced at the doorway to his lab, apparently shaken loose of his train of thought. 

“Hm? I’m sorry Stanley, did you say something?”

Stan held up the blue-and-red striped tie in his hand, quirking an eyebrow at his twin as he did so. “I said, mind-controlling ties, huh? Seriously? Where do you even come up with this stuff?”

Stanford frowned absently, his attention still clearly divided between the current conversation and what he’d been working on before he was interrupted. “I’ll have you know those ties are perfectly functional and work just as they’re intended to. After all, Reagan won the election didn’t he?”

Stan shook his head, pushing off from where he’d been leaning against the door-frame and ambled casually across the room towards his brother.

“Knew that guy was too smooth a talker to be natural. Guess this explains it, but seriously Ford? Handin’ over that kinda power to two twelve-year olds? Not your brightest move there Poindexter.”

Ford’s gaze sharpened, the implied slight to his intellect finally succeeding in pulling him the rest of the way out of his head. 

He glared at his twin. “Dipper is a very responsible child. I knew he would only use the ties as they’re meant to be used. Responsibly.”

“ _Twelve-year olds_ , genius. They don’t know the meaning a the word.”

Ford crossed his arms, one corner of his mouth ticking up in a sardonic smirk. “Oh, and you do?”

Stan shrugged and grinned, hands shoved in his pockets and grin sharp like they were still rowdy teenagers instead of fully grown men who were both pushing sixty. “Sometimes. When I can work it in my favor. For example-”

Quickly, too quickly for Ford to understand what was going on and stop him in time, he stepped forward and looped the open end of the tie over Ford’s head, cinching it tight around his neck before stepping back out of range. It was only then that Ford realized Stan was already wearing the matching brown-and-blue tie.

Stan’s smile broadened and gained a predatory edge that made something deep, deep down in Ford’s traitorous hindbrain shiver in delicious anticipation. He swallowed hard, feeling the tie bob with the motion; he knew that look on his brother’s face only too well, despite not having seen it in person in almost forty years.

“For example,” Stan continued with studied nonchalance, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening at all. “I know it’s definitely _irresponsible_ to leave these things lying around where just anyone could find them. That’s why I decided to bring them back down here to you. Ya know,” a quick flash of teeth gleaming in the shadows of the room. “Personally.”

Stanford struggled to marshal his thoughts but it was unusually difficult, especially when Stan looked at him like that. Forty years of misunderstandings and bad blood between them or no, his body could and did still recognize the promise held within that look and responded eagerly, clamoring for him to close the distance between their bodies.

He cleared his throat and lifted his chin, putting his shoulders back and determinedly ignoring the flush he could feel creeping over his face and down his neck as he met his brother’s eyes squarely. “So, what? You’re here to teach me a lesson in responsibility, is that it? What, are you gonna try and control _me_ now?”

Stan took a step forward and Ford automatically took a step back, flinching slightly in surprise when he immediately fetched up against the edge of the long wooden table that now dominated the majority of his lab space now that the portal had been dismantled.

“Oh, I dunno.” Stanley leaned in close until only a scant inch of empty air existed between them. “I don’t think I really need to _force_ you to agree when it comes to things like this.” 

He slipped two fingers into the bit of space between the strap of the tie and Ford’s neck, maintaining eye-contact all the while. He breathed the last words right across Ford’s lips, feeling the way his twin shook and hearing the thin whimper of need that escaped him seemingly despite himself. “Do you?”

He tightened his grip on the tie and jerked his brother up into a rough, bruising kiss. Ford gasped and then groaned low in his throat when Stan took advantage of his momentary surprise to slip his tongue into his mouth. He scrabbled at his brother’s arms, twisting his fingers into the loose fabric of his suit jacket and hanging on desperately. He responded readily, tangling their tongues together in a wet, scorching hot glide.

The next few minutes were a confusing jumble of images and sounds that ended with Ford splayed out on the surface of the table, divested of his coat, sweater, boots, and glasses, with the front of his slacks gaping open, while somehow Stan had managed to stay almost completely clothed save for his fez, suit jacket, and half the buttons on his shirt. Ford frowned and reached out with the intent of making things a bit more even, only to have his wrists caught before they reached their destination.

Stan chuckled when Ford squirmed, settling most of his weight on his twin so he couldn’t get the leverage to twist out of his grasp. When Ford glared up at him, confused and more than a little irritated, his brother just smirked. “No need to look so upset Sixer. I just have a better idea of what your hands should be doing right now.”

Before Stanford could ask what he meant, his found his arms being stretched up over his head and something soft being wrapped around his wrists. It took an embarrassingly long time for him to realize that in removing his clothing, Stan had also removed the tie and was now using it to bind his hands, and by the time that thought had processed through his lust-fogged brain it was far too late for him to try and yank free. Stanley had slipped the wide end of the tie through one of the thin slats that united the segmented table, making it impossible for Ford to free himself from this angle without either dislocating his shoulders or making the table collapse out from underneath them.

Knowing that didn’t stop Ford from trying, and he wriggled uselessly against his bonds for almost a full minute while Stan watched with no small amount of amusement before giving up, breathing hard from exertion and scowling up at his twin’s smug face. “What is the meaning of this Stanley? I don’t remember consenting to being tied up.”

Stan shrugged, trailing one hand idly down his twin’s bared chest, making Ford shiver and press up into the touch in spite of himself. “You’re right, of course. This is just somethin’ I’ve always wanted to try, so I figured we could give it a whirl. But if you want me to let you go I will. Just say the word.”

He’d focused his attention on Ford’s nipples while he spoke, circling them with his thumbs and pinching them until they stood out peaked and bright pink on his twin’s chest. Ford bit the inside of his cheek hard to keep any noises he might have made trapped inside his throat, unable to keep himself from gasping and jerking up into the pressure of Stan’s hands on him. 

It had been _so_ long since they’d done this, since he’d been laid out under his brother like this, and he’d forgotten how much he liked it-loved it even, as evidenced by the way his erection tented his boxers despite his earlier annoyance at having his hands restrained.

Ford gnawed at his lower lip, at war with himself, and Stanley-damn him-must have seen it because he suddenly grinned, a calculating gleam lighting his eyes that made Ford instantly wary. 

“Or,” Stan said as he slowly lowered his head so that his mouth was positioned directly over one of Ford’s pert nipples. “If you wanna keep going, and don’t mind leaving your hands where they are, well. We could do that too.”

He punctuated the last word with a flick of his tongue across one of Ford’s nipples, and Ford arched up off the table with a cry he couldn’t suppress torn straight from his throat. And Stan didn’t stop there. He devoted himself to lavishing Ford’s chest with attention, laving and nipping at his twin’s nipples until Ford was whining and twitching with hyperstimulation. Then he switched tracks and started sucking and biting his way up his brother’s chest and neck, leaving rapidly purpling bruises in his wake.

And Ford was gone, completely lost in sensation. He tipped his head back, granting Stan complete access to his neck and wrapped his legs around his brother’s hips, grinding their arousals together and making them both groan. 

When Stanley finally pulled back, Ford’s chest was mottled purple and flushed red clear down to his pelvis. The sight of his brother, arms stretched out and bound above his head, all marked up and panting through spit-slick lips was one Stan had more than half expected to never see again, and now that he had, he wanted to make sure it lasted as long as possible.

He palmed his twin’s erection through his boxers, squeezing just hard enough to make Ford jolt and squeal before letting go and helping Ford shimmy out of the rest of his clothes until finally all of him was laid out bare to Stan’s hungry gaze, a veritable feast of flesh for his eyes. 

He slid his hands slowly up Ford’s thighs, skimming the soft skin lightly enough to make goosebumps erupt under his palms. His hands came to rest in the hollow where his brother’s thighs met his hipbones and Ford couldn’t help but suck in a breath at the knowledge that those hands were so close to where he needed them most, couldn’t stop himself from hitching his hips up hopefully, wanting so badly for his own hands to be free so he could grab his brother and pull him in even closer.

But Stan just shook his head with a smile. “Nuh-uh. Not yet.” 

He increased the pressure of his grip on Ford’s thighs, bearing down on them and forcing them to spread wide even as he anchored them flat to the table. He could feel his twin start to quake under his hands as he carefully lowered himself to his knees. “We gotta take care of a few other things first.”

He set his teeth into the skin of Ford’s inner thighs before his twin could question him, felt Ford shudder and keen above him as he nipped and licked and sucked his way upwards. Once he was done with one side, he switched to the other and repeated the process, scraping the harsh stubble of his jaw over his brother’s most sensitive spots just to hear Ford scream his name.

He’d forgotten, or made himself forget over the last forty years, just how responsive his brother was when it came to being touched like this, intentionally made himself let go of the memories of what he couldn’t have anymore. But this. This he could have. This he wouldn’t let himself forget, not if he lived another forty years. He considered that maybe it was time to start making new memories to replace the ones he’d lost, and that idea alone was enough to make him smile like a wolf.

He got to his feet and covered his brother’s body with his own once more, brushing light, teasing kisses over Ford’s swollen lips. Ford was barely conscious enough to return his kisses clumsily, his mind having all but shutdown under the onslaught of pleasure bombarding him. 

He came back to himself a little bit at a time as Stan continued to kiss him, rallying his scattered senses enough to deepen the contact, lapping at the set of thin, parallel scars that bisected his brother’s bottom lip, nibbling and tugging at that one spot, vaguely aware of the realization that he’d been wanting to do that very thing for weeks, ever since he’d first noticed they were there.

He couldn’t help the low moans that flowed out of him unchecked as they traded lazy, exploring kisses, so distracted by the simple pleasure he found in the contact that he almost forgot what exactly they’d been building up to before the kissing started. He was pulled sharply back out of his haze of contentment by the hollow plastic sound of a cap being flicked open. He recognized that sound, knew it only too well.

He pulled back as Stan straightened to stand upright between his legs again, mouth going dry at the sight of the bottle of lube in his brother’s hand even as he raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Where did you get that?”

“Pocket,” Stan grunted without looking up from where he was busy spreading lube over his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it up. “Had it in one a my dresser drawers upstairs.”

Ford couldn’t help but snort even as a fresh spark of heat kindled low in his belly at the understanding of what was to come. “Feeling pretty sure of ourselves than were we?”

Stan finally looked up and met him stare for stare and lifted a singular mocking eyebrow of his own. “Was I wrong?”

Stanford opened his mouth, reconsidered, and then closed it again, turning his head to glare at the wall when his brother snickered. No, he hadn’t been wrong, but he was never going to admit that to his twin’s face, not as long as he lived. He viciously squashed the little voice in his head that told him the point was probably moot by now anyway; after all he _was_ the one splayed out completely naked and at his brother’s mercy. Refusing to admit that Stan had been right aloud really wouldn’t change that simple truth and they both knew it. So he kept quiet.

“Aw c'mon Sixer, don’t go quiet on me now.” One well-lubed finger began to press and stroke firmly at Ford’s entrance even as he spoke. “Usually it’s all I can do to shut you up in middle of things like this, and _now_ you decide to clam up? Really?” 

Slowly, ever so slowly, his finger breached that tight ring of muscle and Ford shuddered and relaxed reflexively, allowing the digit to slide into him without a fight.

“The kids aren’t even home,” Stan continued undaunted, though his voice did grow a bit tight as he worked to slip the second finger in beside the first. Ford was breathing heavily through his nose now, muscles tense as he tried to adjust to the intrusion, grown unfamiliar now after so many years without it. “You can be as loud as you want, and no one would be around to hear ya. Although-”

He undid the knot of the tie he still wore loose around his neck with his free hand and held it up so Ford could see it, dangling it tauntingly above his head. “Maybe I should gag you first, just to be safe.”

Ford’s eyes widened and a flash of lust heated the blood in his veins at the mere suggestion. “My memory ain’t what it used to be, but if I’m rememberin’ right, you tend to get pretty loud. Dunno when the kids ’ll be back after all. Maybe I should muzzle ya, just to be safe. Wouldn’t want anyone to come investigating, am I right?”

It took Ford several tries to wet his throat enough to answer without wheezing. “Y-you-” He licked his lips and tried again, quieter this time. “You wouldn’t.”

Stan’s eyes were very serious when they met Ford’s own. “You’re right, I wouldn’t if it were up to me. I love it when you don’t hold back, when you’re too far gone to remember to be quiet. I love every sound you make, no matter how loud, and if it were up to me I’d never do anything to stopper that up. But this ain’t about me, not right now.” 

He lowered the tie until the wide end of it could trail softly over his brother’s parted lips. “Do you _want_ me to gag you, is what I’m askin’. Cause if that’s what you want, I’ll do it, just say the word.”

Ford swallowed hard several more times, debating. On one hand, the idea of putting such a delicate piece of machinery into his mouth was an abhorrent one; it had taken him months of planning and thousands of dollars to perfect the mind-control technology for those ties. But on the other hand, the thought of letting Stan stuff the fabric into his mouth, holding his mouth open while at the same time muffling any sound he made, balling it up so thick he couldn’t even force a scream past it…He wouldn’t pretend the idea didn’t have some appeal but. But…

But Stan had said he wanted to hear the noises he made; that he _loved_ to listen to the ridiculous babble that escaped him in the throes of passion. His screams turned his twin on, intellectually he’d known that already, but to hear him actually say the words like that…

Eventually Ford shook his head. “No. No, I…m-maybe...maybe another time, but-but not right now.”

Stan’s eyes blazed with heat. “Another time?”

Ford’s cheeks reddened anew when he realized that he’d just verbally confirmed that this would be happening again, but he only nodded, unashamed. “Yes. Another time.”

“Well. Alright then. In that case-” Stan twisted his wrist and spread the three fingers now buried inside his twin as wide as they would go, making Ford’s back bow completely off the table as his mouth fell open on a silent cry of surprise. 

Quickly, before his brother had too much time to notice the change, he withdrew his fingers and lined himself up, having already dropped the tie on the floor and slicked himself up while they’d been talking. He pressed himself inside that first tight, wet inch. “In that case, don’t bother holding back. I wanna hear _everything_.”

Ford struggled against his bonds more violently than he ever had before, wanting his hands free, needing them free so that he could grab onto something, his brother, the table, _anything_ , needing to brace himself somehow but he broke off almost immediately, throwing his head back with a hoarse shout as Stan continued to sink into him slowly, slowly, _way too damn slowly_. 

He bucked his hips up, trying to wrap his legs around Stan’s hips to jerk him closer, to pull him in faster but Stan simply set his hands into the junction of his hips and thighs again and forced them back down to the table, making Ford’s eyes roll back and every muscle in his body snap taunt and start to quiver at the casual display of strength. He fervently hoped there would be bruises in the shape of his twin’s fingertips there in the morning.

Finally, _finally_ Stanley was seated as deep as he could go, and there he paused for a moment with his forehead pressed to his brother’s, the both of them shivering fitfully at the feeling of total connection, of utter completion that they’d both been without for so long. Stan took a deep breath, pulled ever so carefully back out of his twin’s body, then snapped back inside. Ford cried out and clenched around the length inside him instinctively and with that they were both lost.

Stan slammed into his twin over and over and over and over, all remaining restraint gone and Ford strained to gain the leverage to push back against him, the two of them working together as easily as if they’d done this every day for the last four decades as they both rushed toward their respective orgasms. 

Ford came untouched, a fact that would have shocked him, since he would have assumed himself incapable of such things at his age, had he any remaining brain matter left to spare that wasn’t drowning in pure bliss, his vision whiting out as he clamped down around his brother’s cock like a vice, pulling Stan over the edge after him with a snarled curse muffled in the curve of Ford’s neck.

They did nothing but lay against each other for a long, still moment, sweaty and panting and exhausted, until Stan eventually stirred himself to untie Ford’s arms just as his shoulders were really starting to ache. As soon as his arms were loose he wrapped them around his twin’s broad back, holding him close and feeling more content in that one moment than he could ever remember feeling before in his whole life.

It took a long time for Ford to regain control of his voice, but when he did the first thing he said was, “Next time, _I_ get to tie _you_ up.”

Stan chuckled tiredly into the space below his ear. “You got a deal, Poindexter.”


End file.
